


We're Still Holding (To A Promise)

by TheCourier



Series: to feel alive [4]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Bisexual Jon Snow, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Jon is being stubborn and dense so no surprise there, Light Angst, M/M, Self-Indulgent, but it's mostly them talking about kids and How Things Work south of the Wall
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-13
Updated: 2018-11-18
Packaged: 2019-08-01 10:05:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16282571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheCourier/pseuds/TheCourier
Summary: Tormund is still trying to figure out how this strange world he has found himself in works and trying to take care of a man who doesn't remember to take care of himself anymore.





	1. Little Ones

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a lot of talking that doesn’t really move any kind of plot I’m pretending to have and also not sexy at all, it’s just something I needed to get out of my system. But this has been sitting in my drafts for the better part of two months, so it was time to clean it up and post.  
> Next chapter is mostly Sansa and Tormund because apparently I’ve decided they work well together. Also, I just want Sansa to be happy, okay.
> 
> You will also never know how close I came to titling this A Whole New World.

Tormund was adding more wood to the embers in the fireplace when Jon woke. He had made sure that Jon was firmly covered by no fewer than three blankets. He would keep that damned idiot alive if that’s the last thing he did. Ghost seemed to agree; the direwolf had jumped up on the bed immediately after Tormund had left it and was now in his spot, curled up next to Jon. As curled up as a giant wolf could, anyway. Jon absentmindedly stroked his fur. “This is not exactly what I wanted to wake up to,” he said.

“I didn’t want to wake up to a freezing idiot and yet, I did. We all have to make sacrifices.”

Jon looked at him questioningly.

“You somehow managed to shrug off all blankets and your feet were ice cold. Which is why I woke up in the first place, so thanks for that. You have to take better care of yourself, Snow. I’ll be honestly amazed if your seed doesn’t freeze within your balls one of these days. You’ve never even had a proper winter.”

“It’s not like I’ll particularly need it.” Jon looked at Tormund, somewhat crestfallen.

“Don’t be stupid. You will have children one day.” Tormund said matter-of-factly and got up. He tried to shoo Ghost off the bed but only got a blank look for his troubles. “Get off,” he growled. Ghost did not.

Jon just stared at him, looking bleary-eyed and more than just a little confused. “And who is going to have these hypothetical children? You?” He shoved at Ghost. “Move.” Ghost whined and looked at him accusingly, but did move towards the end of the bed.

Tormund took what he could get and got back in under the covers. Then he raised an eyebrow as Jon’s words sunk in. “Is this another thing that you Southerners are doing backwards again? You’re _not_ expected to have children?”

“I wouldn’t be doing Sansa any favours by starting to have children that could further muddle the issue of inheritance. I’m a bastard, I’m not even supposed to inherit anything at all, let alone a kingdom. I’m not going to take the North away from her more than I already have. Now drop it.”

“Fine.” Tormund was still confused about how things went down here when only certain people were supposed to have children. How had they all not died out thousands of years ago when they already married people they didn’t even like or know and then shunned children born of passion?

“Why are you so surprised by this?” Jon asked after a few seconds of silence.

“I thought I was supposed to drop it?”

“Call it curiosity. The Free Folk don’t follow someone just because of a family name, so why are you surprised?”

Tormund propped himself up on his elbows. “Because if healthy people don’t have children, we would die. Living conditions are a bit rougher up north, if you hadn’t noticed.”

“So, your daughters?” Jon asked with a curious note in his voice. Tormund was surprised, usually it seemed Jon was mostly happy to ignore their existence.

“Were born of a desire to have children. They’re amazing and strong, by the way. Fryd is almost old enough to join the spearwives, though I don’t know if she will, and Annlaug is learning to hunt. She’s quieter, so she will be deadly.” He beamed with pride.

Jon gulped. “Their mother?”

“Also wanted to have children. They live in camp outside with her.”

“And you’re … _not_ married?” If he hadn’t known better he’d have thought he heard fear in his voice. They had never talked about his children, aside from the fact that he mentioned their existence. Jon had seemed fine not knowing.

“No. We get married if we want to spend our lives with someone else. We didn’t.”

He saw Jon swallow. “So? That’s it?”

“Do you want me to draw you a picture of how we did it? I could, but you might regret it.”

“No, I meant … the marrying part. You can marry anyone?”

“Sure. All you need is someone who wants to put up with you for the rest of their lives and a weirwood tree.”

“Anyone?”

“What are you getting at?”

“For gods’ sakes, Tormund. I’m asking you whether men can marry other men.”

“Sure. As long as they’ve made sure that they have a little one or two, nobody is going to object. It’s their lives, so it’s not like it’s anyone else’s business.”

Jon looked thoughtful, his shoulders hunched.

“As I said, things are different. We don’t have family names that need to be protected at all costs or castles to defend against, or take back from, enemies. Family is the people you care about and are willing to die for, to protect at all costs, and not some person who decided to put a bunch of rocks on top of each other and decided to never move again a thousand years ago.” He paused. “These walls do have some perks though. You’d never make it north of the Wall the way you are now.”

“The heated walls are unique to Winterfell, though.”

“I know. I’ve been at Castle Black, in case you forgot.” He shot Jon a look. He wouldn’t let him ignore what happened, that he still needed to talk to someone who knew more about mental well-being than him about his… issues.

“I know,” Jon replied quietly.

“So, what does it mean for your sister, if you’re not supposed to have children? Is she the only hope your family has of a future? That’s a lot to put on her shoulders, don’t you think? And I’m pretty certain she doesn’t really want that anyway. Seeing as that usually involves having sex with a man.”

“Sansa’s going to marry and have children with someone who is _not_ Ramsay Bolton. Not even close. I’m going to make sure of that,” Jon said stubbornly, without actually seeing the point Tormund had been trying to make. Sometimes Tormund wondered why he still put up with this frustration. “Now, can we talk about, or preferably do, something that doesn’t involve my sister or hypothetical children?”

“No. I want to know how this works here. If I’m staying here, and I plan to be a pain in your butt for a little while longer, I need to understand how this world works.”

Jon sighed, but seemed resigned. “Right. Sansa is the only living Stark.” Tormund opened his mouth to protest. “No, I don’t count. I don’t have the name and I don’t have any rights to it. The only reason the Northern lords made me King in the North is that they didn’t have an alternative. If any of my brothers had been alive, even little Rickon, they would likely have raised him as a figurehead to rally behind while I might have been allowed to lead the armies, if I hadn’t been executed on the spot as a deserter from the Night’s Watch. Sansa, in any other situation, would have been a better choice, not just because she actually has the Stark name but because she can figure things out that go completely over my head. That’s why _she_ does the actual ruling. But there has never been a Queen in the North and they were looking for someone to lead an army, so I must have seemed like the only choice.

But everything about this is going to be temporary. If we survive the war, I can’t continue the Stark name. And I know I won’t be able to rule a kingdom at peace. _Sansa_ will be. She already is Lady of Winterfell, so her children should inherit the North because they have the right to it. Sansa has the right to be Queen in the North and I took that title from her. I won’t deny her children theirs.”

“You talk a lot about rights, as if that is how the world should be. Just because it’s what’s always been done doesn’t make it right. The reason you’re alive is because your father and mother fancied a roll in the hay with each other. I don’t see how that makes your existence wrong.“

“First, my father wasn’t married to my mother. Second, he was already married to Lady Stark. Third, Lady Stark was pregnant already. My brother Robb was born before Father came home with me. I’m not even a half year younger than him.” He hesitated. “Was,” he added belatedly, an expression ghosting over his face that Tormund couldn’t quite figure out. His eyes had seemed darker for a moment.

“Doesn’t make your existence wrong. Doesn’t mean you should deny yourself something you might want. Doesn’t make the way you were treated _right_.” He gestured to the room they were in. Jon’s childhood room, windowless, with only enough space for a small hearth, a bed and a clothes chest. The one he still insisted on staying in. Jon had shown him the family wing of the castle, the one he was barely allowed into as a child, and Sansa had shown him the chambers his siblings had grown up in. They were worlds apart. Everyone of these Southern lords, including Jon and Sansa, when they talked about him at all, always talked how honourable and kind this Lord Stark had been, but Tormund couldn’t see it. Treating your children differently wasn’t honourable _or_ kind.

“I had it good. I was just too stubborn to see it. I wasn’t mistreated, I had three meals a day, I had a warm place to sleep and I got the same education my siblings did. My siblings treated me the same as they treated each other. None of that is expected. My father and Lady Stark fought a lot about it.”

It still wasn’t right, the way he had been treated, but Tormund knew he couldn’t convince Jon of that. He was too stubborn and too set in this way of thinking, that he had to be grateful for whatever scraps he had been given in life. He pulled him close, placing a kiss on the top of his head. “We’ll make it right,” Tormund said, quietly, hoping that Jon wouldn’t hear, or choose to ignore him.

Such a strange world he had been dragged into, such a strange man he loved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just FYI, since we can all agree that Tormund is clearly not supposed to be as old as book!Tormund. I imagine there to be somewhere between ten to thirteen years of age difference between them, because I like an age difference (that isn’t too big), and I tried to make the ages of his daughters make plausible without him being a ridiculously young father.  
> While IMO it fits with the Seven Kingdoms to have children quite young – bloodlines, feuding and murder being what they are – it doesn’t with the Free Folk, who have to be able to take care of their children in extreme living conditions, so shouldn’t be starting out too young.  
> I’ve also set up the Free Folk to be very Viking-like in attitude regarding (homosexual) relationships because a) that’s what I know a thing or two about and b) I think it _fits._  
>  TL;DR: Tormund’s daughters are not younger because I don’t have much (if any) first-hand experience with young children and if I ever decided to give them some screen time, It would show.
> 
> Comments and constructive criticim are always appreciated! I will also try and make an effort to reply sooner ;)


	2. Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa explains a few things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My apologies for taking so long! I’ve been working on something a bit more longform and I felt like I needed to get the outline and a rough first draft done for that first.
> 
> This might be a bit rougher than the first chapter, I only did some limited editing in order to finally get this up.

“Why were you speaking to Jon about children?” Sansa drew up next to him, her footfall quiet despite wearing heavy boots against the cold. This woman would make a good hunter if she set her mind to it. She could start with trapping. From what he’d heard from and about her, it would fit her quite well.

Tormund was in the main courtyard, watching the children of the castle practicing at swordplay. The soldiers – what was left of them – were practicing in the training yard in a different part of the castle.

Tormund looked at her and sighed. “Have you noticed that for someone who doesn’t talk a lot he sure does _talk_ a lot?” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m still trying to understand how things work down here, I didn’t think anything of it.”

“I see,” Sansa replied, the tone of her voice not betraying any emotion, one way or the other.

He went back to watching the practicing children. Two boys, around eight, were wailing on each other with their practice swords, not observing any form at all. If they had used proper weapons, they would cut themselves more than the other. He watched the others, noticing similar patterns, only very few taking their training seriously. All these children were too old to be this bad with weaponry. It looked more like play than training.

Sansa broke the silence that hung between them. “Jon told me you have children.”

“I do. They’re here.”

“Oh?” He noticed her gaze wandering over to the practicing children, boys all.

“Not here. Outside, in our camp. Although you should start training your girls and women as well. We’ll need every able body who can hold a stick against the dead.”

“And who is going to train all these people? We barely have enough people as is.”

“Most of the Free Folk can fight, even though some are obviously better suited to it than others. My eldest daughter could start training your girls.”

She looked at him with furrowed brows. “How old did you say she was?” Surprise coloured her words. She probably thought they were both still little.

“Thirteen years.” Tormund smiled. “She’s been practicing with spear and knife since she could walk. My younger daughter prefers the bow. She’ll be a hunter, not a warrior. Although she can stick a man with a knife as well as any girl.” Pride swelled up in his chest.

Sansa sighed. Tormund looked over, quick enough to see the sad smile fade from her lips into the stern expression she wore most times. He wondered what she was like before all this. Jon had barely told him about their lives beforehand, and what he had, barely made sense to him. He knew that Jon had last seen her when she was only a little older than Fryd was now. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

“My sister, Arya, she would have been so happy to grow up with your people. She never fit in here, always rebelled against what was expected of her.”

“So you know that your ways restrict people,” he said pointedly.

“Of course. Although I didn’t understand it before. I never understood why she couldn’t just behave normally, do what Father and Mother wanted. I was too hard on her because I didn’t understand her. Never even tried to.” That sad smile was back again.

“If you learned better, why didn’t Jon?”

“That is … a difficult question, Tormund. I don’t truly know what he went through, growing up here, the way he did. I just know that if I could go back and change things, I would. But I can’t. I just know that the way he was raised, alongside us, still put him apart. He was reminded that he wasn’t truly one of us every day, and I have to admit that I often was the person doing so. Our other siblings never cared about that, and Robb loved him so much, he protected him whenever and from whomever he could.” She looked at him, her eyes cloudy. Whatever else, he believed that she had loved her brother, Robb, just as much as Jon had. They talked about him the same way. Whatever else he didn’t understand about them, they did love their family and had lost too much of it. “But still, hearing every day that he didn’t belong, I don’t think that’s something he’ll ever forget,” she added thoughtfully.

“So why does he insist to still adhere to these rules?”

She raised her shoulders. “You have to understand that I’m only guessing. I can’t possibly know what or how he thinks. But my guess is, that’s simply just who he is. I think what he has been told since he can remember, it has ingrained itself in him so much that he can’t think any other way.”

“He told me he doesn’t want children because he doesn’t think it’s right to take away your children’s inheritance, is what he called it.”

Sansa smiled sadly, again. “I can imagine.”

“If he truly didn’t want them, that would be another matter, even if I can’t understand it. I’d respect it. But the way he was talking …”

“I don’t think he ever considered that as a possibility. And, I apologise if I’m overstepping, I didn’t think it would be, considering your … situation.” She fluttered her hand.

“Not with me, obviously, but making children and loving someone are two different things. As I’m sure you’re aware.”

She looked at him. “Not much gets past you.”

“It helps when people underestimate you.”

“I know,” she replied, smiling. A true smile, this time. She looked younger, more her own age.

“Explain to me how this ‘inheritance’ thing works.”

She took in a breath. “When a king or a lord dies, the eldest son inherits the title, lands, responsibilities. If the eldest son died, but had children himself, it would go to _his_ eldest son instead. If there are no sons, it could go to the eldest daughter, but depending on the culture or family tradition, it could go to a brother of the lord instead, or the son of the eldest daughter.”

“So if Jon plans to die childless, you and your children inherit?”

She nodded. “If one of our younger brothers were still alive, he would have, though.”

“What if you don’t have any?”

Her mouth settled into a grim expression. “That can’t happen. I have to continue the Stark name.”

There it was again. Names. To him, it seemed more of a bother than it was worth. “What if you didn’t, though?” he pressed, curious.

She looked back at the practicing children in the courtyard, her eyes distant. He didn’t think that she was really looking at what was before her eyes. “In peace time, it would be decided by a Great Council. Descendants of Stark women who married into different families would most likely put their own or their son’s claim forward. It would be more complicated now, since Father’s brothers and sister died childless, and so did Robb, so the relations are more distant now than it commonly would be. The Karstarks are a branch of the Stark family, so they could put their claim forward, too. They used to be called the Karhold Starks,” she added by way of explanation. She looked at him, as if to ask if he were following. He gave her a curt nod in reply.

She continued, “In war, though… the Kingdom would likely shatter. Alliances would be made between different families, and they would go to war with each other over who ruled.”

Tormund let that sink in for a while before he thanked her.

“For what?” She looked genuinely confused.

“For having the patience to explain your Southern ways to a wildling barbarian.” He bared his teeth at her.

“You will have to stop calling us Southern,” she said, the hint of a smile back on her face.

“I don’t think that I will, it winds you lot up so well,” he replied, grinning.

She turned to leave and he went back to watching the children. She stopped, then came back and stood next to him, to look back into the courtyard. “I’ll talk to the master-at-arms about training the girls. Would more of your people be interested in joining our training?”

“I’m sure some will be. I’ll ask around camp.”

“Talk to your daughter as well. The girls might be more willing to learn from someone that can set an example to them.”

“I will. You know, you lot aren’t so bad, once one gets to know you.” He grinned at her.

She smiled back, a genuine smile. “Neither are you.” She turned to go again. “Until next time.”

He sobered, thought if he really should ask her, but the words had already left his mouth. “You lost someone you love, didn’t you?” he called after her.

She stopped and turned back to look at him. Her eyes were sad and dark again. “My whole family died, Tormund. I had five siblings. Now I have one.”

“Yes, and I’m sorry for that, but I don’t mean that. Jon told me you went South. You lost someone there.”

This time, she didn’t smile sadly, just looked forlorn. “I did.”

“I’m sorry.”

Her gaze turned to steel. “We can’t change the past. Only ensure we have a future.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! :)  
> I hope you enjoyed this self-indulgent drivel.
> 
> Comments and constructive criticism are always appreciated!


End file.
